Remember Me Not
by Frat
Summary: It's the year 1928 and your husband goes missing only to return days later, except he's not your husband at all. TW: racism, rated M for strong use of language and strong sexual content in chapters to come.
1. Chapter 1

**Before you start reading this fic...I have to warn you that it's different. TW: racism. This is just the beginning so please forgive any errors and enjoy! **

"Ma'am, you have to calm down."

"My husband has been missing for more than 48 hours and you guys are doing nothing to help me! How do you expect for me to calm down?"

"Ma'am, you _will_ calm down."

Mercedes exhaled deeply, looking at the white police officer in front of her.

"Now may you give me that description again."

"He has green eyes, blonde hair, and he's tall. He has a scar underneath his left eye and-"

"Tall because you're short or is he actually tall?"

"Look, I don't know!"

"And you two are here for vacation?"

"No, we just moved here less than a month ago."

"Okay ma'am. Stay here."

Mercedes wiped her eyes which were wet from tears. She and Hunter had just moved to Lima, Ohio from Chicago less than a month ago and now her husband was nowhere to be found and people kept treating her like she was out of her mind.

"She claims he's a white man, but who does she expect to believe that?" Mercedes heard the officer that she'd just been talking to now speaking to another officer.

_Was he serious?_

"And why wouldn't you believe it?" Mercedes spoke loudly. "Because I'm black, right?"

The officer glared at Mercedes. "No, I've seen white guys with black girls a few times before. I've just never seen one with a fat one, that's all."

"Are you fucking serious?" Mercedes asked, standing up from her seat. She stalked towards him but another officer grabbed her by her arm. "Ma'am, you don't wanna do anything you're going to regret." He spoke to her and she looked back at the other guy.

"Now go on home now. We have the description and we'll be looking."

"But-"

"But go on home now!" The officer reiterated.

Mercedes didn't say one more word as she retrieved her purse and headed for the door of the police station. She may have been married to a white man but it was 1928 and it seemed as if people didn't accept this type of thing _anywhere_.

She always overheard the white people talking down on her and even her own kind looked down on her and whispered as she walked by.

She had overheard black women talking about how she thought she was better than them and how her being married to a white man must have made her think she could walk past them with her head held high as if she was superior to them all.

One black guy had even stepped to her and asked her how it was to be fat and black and married to the American dream. He'd proceeded to grab her and shove her around and ask her about how the white man fucked her and if he whispered dirty things in her ear, about how she would take his white dick because she was only a black nigger bitch who would be used for nothing more than bringing forth children when none of that was true.

She'd told Hunter when she'd made it home and he'd gone out and found the guy and if it had not been for his best friend of nearly eight years, Hunter would have beat the shit out of him for talking to his wife in such a manner. He didn't want to be viewed in that light though so he'd decided that it was best for he and Mercedes to move away instead.

* * *

Mercedes' mind was all over the place. She couldn't help but think about Hunter and his disappearing. _Where was he? Had he left her because he could take it no longer? The stares, the whispers, being an outcast of so many of his own people? _

Mercedes heart dropped as she thought about it all. _Would Hunter have really moved them away just to leave her? Maybe he'd wanted to make sure she was safe from the stares and the whispers before he left her on her own._

Walking slowly to their room, she noticed how everything was still out of place and in boxes-even Hunter's things and she was sure that she would never put anything away now.

Climbing onto the bed, she laid down-placing her arm over her head as she cried.

Months would past with Mercedes still in the same position, only leaving the bed to use the restroom. She barely showered, _she couldn't_, she didn't care, she had nothing. Her family had disclaimed her shortly after giving her hand over to Hunter in marriage so she couldn't call upon them and now she was sure that she'd be alone forever.

There came a knock at the door and she didn't bulge until she heard it again.

Getting up from the bed, she walked slowly to the front door and opened it to find the disrespectful officer whom she had spoken to at the police station months before today.

"We need you to come down to the police station. We think we may have found your husband."

Mercedes nodded her head. "Okay, I'm just gonna put on some clothes and I'll be right there."

Her heat raced as she showered and dressed and as soon as she parked her car at the police station, she jumped out and ran up to the doors.

"Right this way." She was greeted by an officer who lead her to the familiar area where she'd been before.

He opened a door for her and she entered it to see the cop who had come by earlier sitting with a man.

"This man says he's your husband." The officer spoke, pointing at the man and Mercedes stared blankly at the two of them.

"He came into the hospital the other day and said that he was badly injured and he couldn't quite remember where he lived since he'd just moved to this area. Said he may have been robbed and hit across the head. The nurse checked him then called us. Said that he could have very well been hit across the head since they did find a small bruise on his head."

Mercedes still didn't say anything as she looked from the officer then at the white-blonde hair, green eyed man.

"We think it will be best for you to take him home so that he can get some rest because he seems to have been injured pretty badly to not remember where he lives."

Mercedes shook her head at the officer and asked him to step out into the hallway and he simply followed her out into the hallway.

She closed the door behind the two of them and looked up at the man. "All of that is very convincing Officer, but that man is not my husband."

The officer looked down at her, his eyes narrowed. "Look lady, you're just as shaken as your husband and besides, who in their right mind would lie about something like this?" He moved around her to open the door again before entering the room. "You will take your husband home and you will care for him and we will stop by your home daily to check on his progress."

Mercedes shook her head. "I'm not taking him anywhere because _that, _Sir, is not my husband."

The officer turned to face Mercedes. "Either you will accept that this is your husband and save us some damn work or we will lock you up for false alarm. Now, you have it your way, because if not, I will make sure that you stay in that cell for the rest of your living days."

"Hey! Don't talk to my wife like that." The man spoke up from the other side of the room and Mercedes eyes widened. He didn't even sound like Hunter with his southern drawl.

"I'm not your wife!"

"That's it!" The officer grabbed Mercedes and the man quickly stood up and walked quickly towards the two of them.

"I'm sure she's just shocked." He touched the officer's hand so that he could loosen his grip on Mercedes. "We'll be on our way now."

* * *

As soon as they were outside of the station, Mercedes hurried off to her car with the man following close behind her.

"Stop following me!" She said, her voice threatening.

"I'm your husband." The man said simply. "You heard the officer inside."

Mercedes gasped. _Was she losing her mind? Had something happened to her during those long months that she'd stayed in that room? Was this man whom she didn't recognize one bit really her husband?_

**Heeyy! I heard something this weekend that inspired me to write this so I'm writing it. Now you have been warned, there is slight racist remarks in this story. None coming from Mercedes' spouse(s) of course, but this is based on the year 1928 so don't expect this story to be all pleasant. Now you know I have to ask: Did you like it or did you love it?**


	2. Chapter 2

**So someone informed me that there is actually a movie about this that I have chosen to write about. I never knew that there was a movie, I'd just heard a bit about the plot and I had decided that it would be great to put into a story. I watched the movie though and**** I absolutely loved it and it definitely inspired me and ********gave me so many more wonderful ideas for this fic. The movie is called ****"The Changeling" which stars Angelina Jolie and is based off of a true story. I would like to thank the reviewer for that information. With that being said, here's chapter two. Please forgive any errors and enjoy.**

Mercedes parked her car in the parking lot and hurriedly got out of it and ran up to the door of her home.

She could hear his footsteps close behind her but she didn't care as she fumbled to unlock the door.

"What are you doing?" He yelled when she opened the door and quickly entered it, then tried to close it without allowing him to enter.

"Go away!" She spoke with authority, managing to close the door as he hadn't put up much of a fight.

"I can't go away." He said simply. "I live here. Where would I go?"

"I don't know and I honestly don't care!" Mercedes yelled through the door.

"You have to let me in."

"I don't have to do a gotdamn thing!"

"Okay."

Mercedes stood up against the door for a little while longer, waiting for what ever to come next but to her surprise all remained quiet.

Moving away from the door, she walked over to the window and carefully moved the blinds to look out of them. She didn't see him.

_Where could he have gone? Would he wait until she was asleep then break into her home and kill her? What did this man want with her anyhow? Why was he claiming to be her husband when it was clear that he wasn't?_

She quickly made her way to the kitchen and retrieved a knife from one of the drawers before returning back to the living room and sitting down on the couch, far away from the door and any window. She'd be damned if she were to die tonight.

* * *

Hours passed with Mercedes sitting in that same spot on the couch. The night was dark and she was almost positive that it was rather late as the sun wasn't shining through her curtains any longer, but she was too afraid to check-to move. She merely sat there with the lights turned down as she stared at the door-jumping at any unfamiliar sound.

She hadn't even realized that she'd fallen asleep until she heard a knock at the door and she quickly shot up into a sitting position.

The sun shined brightly through her curtains now and she could hear voices close by, then came another knock.

"Mrs. Stokes, I'm Officer Smith! I need you to open the door!"

Mercedes jumped up off of the couch and quickly made her way to the door, opening it.

"Hello." She spoke slowly, looking between the officer and the man who was said to be her husband.

"Mrs. Stokes, we passed by your home this morning and your husband was sleeping on the porch." Officer Smith started. "When asked why he was lying here on the porch, he replied that he must have dozed off while doing _yard work_. Now, as happy as you are that your husband is finally home...and you _are_ happy, right?" He paused, waiting for Mercedes to answer him.

"Y-yes, I am-I'm happy." Mercedes spoke, her voice hoarse.

"Just as I thought." The officer smiled. "As happy as you are, I know you wouldn't have dared to lock your husband out of your-" He pointed between Mercedes and the other man. "home so that he would have nowhere to sleep but on the porch, is that correct?"

"I-sir-I did not-"

"Is that correct!" The officer spoke loudly, cutting Mercedes off.

Mercedes exhaled heavily, biting her bottom lip and the officer stepped towards her.

"Is that correct?" He spoke directly at her and Mercedes could feel his hot breath against her face.

"That's correct." She spoke firmly, though not showing a sign of fear.

"As I thought." The officer backed up out of her personal space. "Now, Mr. Stokes, go on inside of your home and get some rest."

The man nodded and moved past the officer to enter the house and Mercedes didn't bulge from out front of the door.

"Move." Officer Smith spoke and she stepped out the way-allowing the man to enter.

The officer looked at Mercedes and shook his head. "Have a wonderful day, Mrs. Stokes." He smiled. "And treat your husband with care."

Mercedes didn't reply as she slammed the door in his face and she was sure he stood there with a look of displeasure on his face but she didn't care.

Turning around, she stopped in her tracks when she saw the man who had just entered her home making his way to the back of her small house.

"Hey! Come back in-" It was too late. He had already entered the bathroom as the home was only made up of two bedrooms and a bathroom.

She ran to the bathroom where he was and when she saw him, her eyes widened.

_Was this man really undressing himself in her house?_

She turned her back to him. "Can you put your shirt back on in my home?"

"It's nothing you've never seen, Mercedes." He spoke calmly, almost too calm. As if his presence was normal. "Besides, I need to shower."

She turned to face him but covered her eyes and backed away from him at the sight of his body that was now free of any clothing at all. _This man, who was not her husband, was completely naked and in her house._

* * *

"What are you doing with that?"

Mercedes sat on the couch, her eyes deadly as she held onto a butchers knife with dear life when the man entered the living room.

"Don't come next to me." She spoke calmly but firmly.

"Mercedes, listen to me." The man spoke calmly as well, slowly walking towards her.

"I said!" Mercedes held the knife up towards him. "Don't come next to me!"

The man stopped moving then. "Okay." He held his hands up. "I won't, but I know you won't use that."

"You think so?" Mercedes glared at him.

"I know so because I'm your husband and you love me."

"You are not my husband!" Mercedes yelled.

"I _am_ your husband." He spoke calmly.

"No, you are not!" She yelled again.

"You are _my_ wife and I am _your_ husband."

"Stop saying that!" Mercedes yelled, tears rolling down her face now as she dropped the knife at her side.

_She was not crazy! Was she?_

The man took a step forward and she held the knife up at him again, but to his surprise, she was giving in.

He quickly stepped forward and took the weapon, sitting it down on the edge of the couch. He reached down to pull her up from her spot on the couch, hugging her to him as she cried.

"It's okay." He whispered into her hair and her body shook hard from her crying. "You're afraid. You don't remember me and I understand, but Mercedes, I love you and I'll be damned if I let you go without a fight. I'm here now. I'll help you remember."

Just then Mercedes looked up at him, her eyes wet with tears and the man used a finger to dry her eyes.

"Oh my God." She stepped put of his embrace only to study his face then shook her head.

* * *

Mercedes woke up in daze. Her eyes were sticky and she would not have opened them if she had not smelled a wonderful aroma right beneath her nose. Bacon, someone was cooking bacon in her home and it wasn't her.

Her eyes widened and she sat up when she remembered the man who she had been forced to bring into her home less than two days ago.

Sliding her feet into her house shoes, she hurriedly ran down the hallway and to the kitchen where the man was standing in front of her stove, his arm busy as he stirred at something in a small pot.

"What the hell are doing?" She was sure she looked a mess but she didn't really care.

"Cooking breakfast." The man turned to her with a smile. Charming.

Mercedes didn't care about any of that though. "Hunter can't cook. You are not supposed to be able to cook."

The man stared at her blankly before turning his back to her again to attend the the pot on the stove.

"Five months, Mercedes. Five long months, I waited, I longed for you."

Mercedes stepped towards him and looked into the pot. "What the hell does that have to do with anything? And Hunter doesn't eat grits!"

The man continued to stir. "Mercedes, you spoiled me while I was here. Of course I couldn't cook, I had no reason to. When I was away though, a family took me in, they showed me how to cook and they helped me to get back on my feet. I don't quite remember this, but they told me that they'd talked to me every day until I started to remember things again, and then one day I said your name. I was cooking and I mentioned my wife because...I guess because it was something that I remembered about you. You were always the best." He shook his head and turned the stove off. "Now, I know I could never be as good as you, but please eat."

Mercedes eyebrows had been turned down from the moment the man had started to talk and she only moved aside when he made his way past her and to the refrigerator.

He fixed their plates, sitting them on the table and pulling a chair out for her and waiting for her to be seated.

"Please?" He spoke after realizing that she wasn't going to sit.

She sat, looking up at him and waiting for him to be seated as well.

All was quiet as he ate his food except for the sound of her fork clacking loudly against her plate. She couldn't eat. She wasn't hungry.

The man sighed. "Do you not like your food?"

Mercedes didn't say anything as she glared over at him, and he humped his shoulders and continued to eat.

"Hunter always allowed me to say grace before we ate." She finally spoke and the man stopped mid-chew.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." He responded.

"Whats my favorite color?"

Her next question took him by surprise. "Huh?" He asked.

"What is my favorite color?" She asked again. "If you're Hunter, you'll know."

"Purple..." The man answer slowly.

Mercedes only glared at him. "Anyone could look at me and tell that much." She said. "What's my favorite dish."

"Look-I..."

"Favorite dish!"

"I don't remember." The man dropped his head as if in shame.

"I thought so." Mercedes said before dropping her fork on the plate and standing up from the table.

She started to leave but turned around to look at him again. "Just please..." She paused. "I know you're not my husband so, please, just tell me who you are."

The man didn't say anything as he stared up at Mercedes, his eyes unreadable.

_Could he tell her the truth? Was there a truth?_

**Heeeyy! Did you like it or did you love it? I don't even know what to say about this guy. Is he really Hunter and Mercedes is just out of her mind or is he really just _that guy_? So much suspense. I can't tell you all of it right now, but if you stick around for the next chapter, you will learn something quite interesting. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and please remember to leave a review. Thank you.**


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